Chapter 5
I Take My Departure From The House Of Samos

“The game,” I said, “was an excellent one.”

Samos rose to his feet, storming with rage. “While you sported at the fair,” said he, “here in Port Kar catastrophe has struck!”

I had seen the flames in the arsenal as I had returned on tarn from the perimeters of the Sardar.

“He was mad,” I said. “You know this to be true.”

“Only he could have so approached the ship, only he could have done this!” cried Samos.

“Perhaps he was not satisfied with the design,” I suggested. “Perhaps he feared to paint the eyes, perhaps he feared to commit his dream to the realities of Thassa.”

Samos sat down, cross-legged, behind the low table in his hall. He wept. He struck the table with his fist.

“Are you sure it was he?” I asked.

“Yes,” said Samos, bitterly. “It was indeed he.”

“But why?” I asked.

“I do not know,” said Samos. “I do not know.”

“Where is he now?” I asked.

“He has disappeared,” said Samos. “Doubtless he has thrown himself into the canals.”

“It meant so much to him,” I said. “I do not understand it. There is a mystery here.”

“He took a fee from Kurii agents,” said Samos.

“No,” I said. “Gold could not buy dreams from Tersites.”

“The ship,” said Samos, “is destroyed.”

“What remains?” I asked.

“Ashes,” said he, “blackened timbers,”

“And the plans?” I asked.

“Yes,” said he, “the plans.”

I nodded. “Then it might be rebuilt,” I said.

“You must take the Dorna,” said he, “or the Tesephone.”

“It makes little sense to me,” said I, “that Tersites would fire the ship.”

“It is the end of our hopes,” said Samos, “to meet Half-Eat at the world’s end.”

“I have spoken to you of that matter,” I said.

“Yes,” said Samos, bitterly, “I have seen your carving. Can you not recognize that as a ruse to mislead you northward, while Kurii pursue unimpeded their fierce schemes at the world’s end?”

“Perhaps,” I said. “But I sense that there is an honesty in this, as of the cruel sport of war. I think I sense the nature and being of this Zarendargar.”

“Kurii,” said Samos, “are without honor.”

“There is a brotherhood of professional soldiers,” I said, “which I suspect crosses the boundaries of species.”

“We have only one choice,” said Samos. “You must take another ship, the Dorna or the Tesephone, or you may take my flagship, the Thassa Ubara.”

“But there is little hope,” I smiled, “that such ships may reach the world’s end.”

“None have hitherto done so, or have done so and returned,” said Samos. He looked at me. “I do not, of course, command that you undertake such a journey.”

I nodded.

No sane leader could command this of a subordinate. A journey so far and terrible could be undertaken by none but volunteers.

“I am sorry about the ship,” I said, “and I do not understand what has happened there, but I had previously determined, my dear Samos, that in any case I would venture not to the west but the north.”

Samos looked at me, angrily.

“I hope, of course,” said I, “to discover one day what occurred in the arsenal.”

“I can command you,” said Samos, “as one loyal to Priest-Kings, to remain in Port Kar.”

“I am in my way a mercenary,” I said. “I command myself. I choose my wars. I choose my loyalties.”

“Would you betray Priest-Kings?” asked Samos.

“I will keep faith with them in my own way,” I said.

“I order you to remain in Port Kar,” said Samos, coldly.

I smiled at him. “That is an order you have no authority to issue,” I told him. “I am a free soldier.”

“You are a brigand and an adventurer!” he cried,

“I am curious to see the north,” I said.

“The ship may have been destroyed by Tersites, in fee to Kurii,” snapped Samos, “precisely to prevent you from reaching the world’s end!”

“Perhaps,” I admitted.

“That is where Zarendargar waits for you!” said Samos.

“We think of the world’s end as lying betwixt Tyros and Cos, at the end of a hundred horizons,” I said, “but who knows where a Kur would see it to be.” I rose to my feet and strode to the map mosaic on the floor of the great hall. I pointed downwards. “There,” I said, “may well be what a Kur regards as the world’s end.” I indicated the frozen north, the polar sea, the ice of the lonely pole. “Is that not a world’s end?” I asked.

“Only red hunters can live in such a place,” whispered Samos.

“And Kurii?” I asked.

“Perhaps,” he said.

“And perhaps others?” I asked.

“Perhaps,” he said.

“It is my belief,” I said, “that Zarendargar waits in the north.”

“No,” said Samos. “The carving is a trick, to lure you away from the locus of their true efforts, those at the true world’s end, there.” He indicated the western edge of the map, the terra incognita beyond Cos and Tyros, and the scattered, farther islands.

“A judgment must be made here,” I said. “And I have made it.”

“I will make the judgment,” said Samos. “I am commanding you to remain in Port Kar.”

“But I am not under your command,” I pointed out. “I am a free captain. Apprise yourself of the articles of the Council of Captains.”

I turned and strode to the door.

“Stop him,” said Samos.

The two guards, their spears crossed, barred my way. I turned to regard Samos.

“I am sorry, my friend,” he said. “You are too valuable to risk in the north.”

“Am I to understand,” I asked, “that it is your intention to prevent me by force from leaving your house?”

“I will cheerfully accept your word,” said he, “that you will remain in Port Kar.”

“I do not, of course, accord you that word,” I grinned.

“Then I must detain you by force,” he said. “I am sorry. I will see that your accommodations are in keeping with your station as a captain.”

“I trust,” I said, “you can make clear the benevolence of your intentions to my men.”

“If the house is stormed,” said Samos, “my defenses will be found to be in order. It would be my hope, however, that you would not see fit, under the circumstances, to encourage useless strife. We are both, surely, fond of our men.”

“To be sure,” I said, “I expect they could find better things to do than die on your walls.”

“I ask only your word, Captain,” said Samos.

“It seems I have little choice,” I said.

“Forgive me, Captain,” said Samos.

I turned and seized the crossed spears of the guards, twisting and pulling them toward me, flinging them, they surprised, not swiftly enough releasing the weapons, to the tiles.

“Stop!” cried Samos.

I slipped through the door and, with one of the spears, which I had retained, sliding the shaft through the great handles, closed the door. Instantly they were pounding on it. I seized the mallet of an alarm bar which hung in the hail, and began to pound it madly. It served to drown out the noise. Men’s feet began to pound in the halls; I heard the clank of weapons. I hurried down the hall and struck another alarm bar.

A guardsman appeared. “There!” I cried. “In the great hall! Hurry!”

Four more guards appeared.

“Come!” cried the first guard.

They ran down the hall.

Other guardsmen appeared.

“To the hall!” I cried.

They fled past me.

In a moment I was at the double portal, the first barred, of the house of Samos.

“What is it, Captain?” asked one of the guards there.

“I think it is nothing,” I said. “A new guardsman, affrighted at a shadow or noise sounded the alarm.”

“Is it a false alarm?” said the man.

“I think so,” I said.

“Perhaps a sleen is loose,” said another guard.

“That would be serious,” I admitted.

“Perhaps we should assist,” said one of the guards.

“I think you should remain at your post,” I said.

“He is right,” said another.

“Is my boat ready?” I asked.

“Yes,” said one of the guardsmen. He opened the interior gate, and then the heavy iron portal.

“Stop him!” we heard. “Stop him!” These shouts came from down the hall.

“It sounds as though there is an intruder,” I said.

“He will not get past us,” said one of the guardsmen.

“Good man,” I commended him.

“I wish you well, Captain,” said the man.

“I wish you well, too, Guardsman,” said I. Then I stepped across the narrow court before the house of Samos and down into the waiting longboat.

“To the house, Captain?” asked Thurnock.

“Yes,” I said.